


Twins

by Doctahlock, LightDarkPheonix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Hearing Voices, Infant Death, Magic Realism, Minor Violence, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:04:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctahlock/pseuds/Doctahlock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightDarkPheonix/pseuds/LightDarkPheonix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade is a Detective Inspector at New Scotland Yard. He has spent the last week on a grueling case and looking forward to heading home, but when he gets there his world is changed for ever.</p>
<p>A magic realism fic where John and Sherlock are alternate personalities and Greg is their host.</p>
<p>NB: My first fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Light

**Author's Note:**

> This wonderful idea came from the beautiful and creative mind of LightDarkPheonix. It's not beta'd or brit picked so please forgive us for any mistakes and inconsistencies.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.  
> xx

 

It had been a long and gruelling case and Greg could think of nothing better than to get home to his family. He hadn’t been home for a  few days, long nights spent at the office, chasing leads and criminals through the streets of London. He had spoken to his wife Beth a few times, she had mentioned that Sherlock, the youngest of the twins, had finally spoken his first word, (they had thought that maybe he might have some developmental problems but he was racing ahead with all other milestones). Greg was itching to get home to hear his little genius talk.

 

The case had kept him away from his family for far too long. It was a serial killer case, well technically killers, but you can’t prosecute a cat.

 

He was heading home with Forbes, his partner, Greg had been boasting and gushing about his children all case and Forbes was looking forward to meeting the boisterous trouble makers.

 

Even at the young age of 2 and a half despite the fact that Sherlock had only just said his first words, the young boy had shown the signs of genius, his understanding of colours, shapes and sounds was well above the average norm, and he had an intelligence in his eyes that looked well beyond his years. Sherlock understood what was going on around him, but it was almost as if he couldn’t be bothered speaking just yet. The way he looked at things and the world was almost as if he was analysing everything, and the way he played was more experimental than that of what you expect from a 2 year old. He would get himself into trouble with many things, constantly getting scrapes and bumps on his knees, but John was always there to calm him. John doted on his slightly younger twin, comforting him when he cried and calming him through his tantrums, sometimes it almost seemed like at times of great stress, John became Sherlock, getting into his mind and soothing him.

 

The boys had such a strong connection, it was like they felt each others pain, and could communicate with thoughts alone. Greg thought it was probably just the twin telepathy thing, but it was still extremely impressive.

 

Once, a few days after their first birthday, Sherlock had somehow managed to get into the cabinet under the sink, using the chemicals he found to create a foul smelling concoction. Sherlock had then accidentally tipped the container he was using over, spilling the entire mess on his front. Miraculously, it did not start eating away at the fabric, but he freaked out anyway. John had been at the other side of the house, and it seemed that he had sensed Sherlock was in danger, he had come toddling as fast as he could, and when he ascertained that his brother wasn’t hurt, he’d gone and grabbed their mum.

 

\-----

On the way home it was like Greg couldn’t contain his excitement. Though exhausted and worn down from the past few days, a surge of energy ran through him at the thought of seeing the twins. Forbes was driving, and was only going to stay for a short while, (he had his own family to get home to), but seeing the sheer delight and joy spread into his partners eyes, he knew meeting the man's sons would be an important part of their growing relationship.

 

They arrived just after night had fallen, Greg eager to get inside, he grabbed his coat and his briefcase from the car and headed up the short garden path, Forbes following behind.

 

Greg opened the door to his house, expecting to see his boys toddling up to meet him but what he saw instead shocked him to the core.

 


	2. Into Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Greg opened the door to his house, expecting to see his boys toddling up to meet him but what he saw instead shocked him to the core..."

 

There was blood everywhere, Greg looked on in shock. Upon the floor in the hallway leading to the kitchen were the two small (much too small) bodies of his baby boys.  He shifted his eyes up and noticed his wife standing there, knife in hand, covered in blood. She looked upon him with vacant eyes, "I have solved our problem"  she said, no emotion showing in her voice or facial expression.

 

It physically hurt, trying to understand how she could have done that to their own children, to children she had given birth to and loved. Even now, thinking about it makes him retreat inside himself, so he doesn’t. Not usually anyway.

 

Greg doesn't remember crossing the space between them, but he does remember the all encompassing rage consuming him as he launched himself into her body, knife somehow in his hand now.  His head and body was screaming, but his own voice seemed disembodied and distant "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!"  He was about to guide the knife into her heart, not fully in control of his actions, when he felt someone grab him firmly from behind.  

 

He could hear Forbes' voice floating into his ears.  "Greg NO!!,  she's not worth it, come on let her go mate " the tension slowly lifted from Greg's shoulders as he hesitantly stood up and turned, Forbes released his grip, and Greg looked down. A sight of sheer horrific nature filled his eyes, his boys, his baby boys, once so full of life and potential now lay upon the bloodied floor, lifeless eyes staring up at their father.

 

Greg fell to the floor, gathering the twins in his arms, and slowly began to weep.

 

X

 

\---------------------

 

X

 

The funeral was a small affair, though a few of the yarders turned up in respect for Greg. It was an uncharacteristically sunny day and the service was short. Greg was blank through the entire funeral. He could barely think, let alone give a eulogy, luckily the minister present offered, Greg was thankful, knowing that he just couldn’t physically do it.

 

He sat at the front of the small procession alone, Beth was in jail, the trial was to start next week and Greg made sure she was not allowed leave to attend the funeral. He stared blankly at the two small caskets at the front of the small room, barely a thought going through his head.

 

After the burial, people came by offering their condolences, there would be no wake, Greg just wanted to be alone. He’d left the house he shared with Beth the day after the murders, currently in a hotel room in London until the trial was over, when he could think again, then maybe he might find somewhere more permanent, but now everything was just too hard.

 

Life didn’t seem to matter any more, what was the purpose if he couldn’t see his children grow, experience the joys and pains of childhood, teach them about how wonderful he thought life could be. Except it couldn’t any more, could it? All Greg could see was blackness ahead, the colours and rainbows of life passed into oblivion along with the last breathe of his childrens life.

 

Each day seemed to carry on forever in a colourless haze. He functioned, barely, hell he was still managing to breathe somehow, even though it seemed to take more energy than was surely necessary. Life became a blur, nothing mattered anymore, nothing felt right, nothing belonged. But the court case brought about a change that in no way Greg would have ever dreamed of or hoped would come true.

  
The court case would bring his boys back home.


	3. Insanity Pending

 

John was aware of himself right off. And he’d figured out pretty quickly that Greg was not in the best place, so he decided to take control for the duration that he was on the stand. Greg had just kind of stood there, feeding him memories, not entirely realizing that he wasn’t himself.

 

It was a long and arduous process, and having to be on the witness stand just deemed too much for him. He could feel himself slowly losing grip on reality, but he somehow seemed to be carrying on, as if someone else had taken the reigns and lead him through the nightmare.

 

The jury convicted Beth to 15 years, after about a week’s long case. The night after the sentencing, Greg was lying on his bed in the hotel room he had rented, when he suddenly heard someone talk.

 

_“Greg? You okay?”_

 

His eyes immediately shot open. “What the hell!!” he thought. “Who’s there!?!” his voice croaky from exhaustion. Panic started to set in, he couldn’t see anyone in the dimly lit room, he knew he was alone, but how could he be, the voice was so clear.

 

_“Greg, calm down, you’re not hallucinating, I’m in your head, I know that sounds weird, but I’m apart of you”_

 

The voice did sound like it came from in his head, but he was confused and scared.

 

“Who...Who are you and… and... what do you want?” Greg was still speaking aloud at this point, not sure how else to answer this enigmatic entity.

 

_“There is no need to speak aloud, I can hear you think to me. My name is John Watson, I am an ex army doctor and the residual being of your eldest son, we lived the childhood you remember and when our physical bodies died, our lives carried on, ‘though to you it has only been a few weeks since you found us, to us it has been years.”-J_

 

Greg thought he’d finally lost it, staring at the ceiling, his mind felt as if it was going implode. An adult John, existing in his mind, yep, he’d definitely lost it. He rolled over and tried to block the invading voice out.

 

_“Greg, please don’t ignore me, I live in you now, we exist together, although you cannot access the memories of the life I have lived, I can assure that I am real, please talk to me”-J_

 

Greg still refused to believe that this was happening. He did not need this. He did not need the spectral voices in his head of his dead son. Or sons, possibly. “I’ve lost, it, I’ve fiking lost it.”

 

He hears a sigh in his head _“Greg, look I know this is hard to take in but, it’s real, I’M REAL” -J_

 

Greg opened his eyes in a slight resignation.  “Alright. Suppose you exist, and I haven’t cracked. Shouldn’t we be unable to communicate directly?”

 

_“No this isn't a mental illness, actually I don't know what it is, Sherlock should have figured it out by now, but all you need to do is think like you’re having a conversation in your head, because essentially that is what we’re doing” - J_

 

Greg closes his eye and thinks…”Hello…”

 

_“I can hear you Greg” -J_

 

“Well at least I don't have to walk around talking to myself like a complete nutter, I can have some semblance of sanity left” He rubs his hand over his face, he can’t quite believe he is doing this, even just considering listening to the voice...an actual voice… in his head... That in itself seems crazy enough, let alone entertaining the anomaly with questions.

 

"Wait a second, Sherlock is in here too?" God not one but two voices, Greg is seriously doubting his sanity. He really did hope he was dreaming.

 

_“Obviously. ” -S_

 

“Oh Jesus fuck”, Greg sighs, “Alright then you two, any frikken idea what the hell is going on here??”

 

_“Well obviously when you were too detached from reality, John and I (well mainly John) saw you weren’t doing an adequate job of looking after yourself, and the bond we shared as father and sons let us in to look after you. It has to do with the residual energy we leave behind when we die, apparently, being our father and the emotion (Greg can almost feel Sherlock/himself? shudder at the word) you felt when you saw us on the floor, was enough for us to attach ourselves to you, though it took you having some kind of breakdown for us to penetrate your mind, meanwhile we were living false lives in pseudo reality” -S_

 

 

“Right” That made sense. Sort of. Now he would just have to learn how to deal with two other people inside his head. Greg closes his eyes and slightly shakes his head in an accepting form of disbelief.

 

_“I apologize for taking over on the stand, you didn’t seem to be doing particularly well.” -J_

 

Greg nodded mentally. "I did wonder how I survived that mess...  Thanks... I think?"

 

Turning over in his bed, he did his best to fall asleep. It had been an exhausting day, actually to be truthful, the past month, ever since he returned home that fateful night, he had been struggling not to curl up and let the void wash over him.

 

Who knew what the hell was really happening in his head, though he seemed to have accepted the "voices"  for now, he was hoping against hope that it was really just the exhaustion talking. Maybe, hopefully, when he woke up, he would be "alone"  again and tonight was just a strange and confusing nightmare.

 

If not, God only knew what life was going to be like from now on.  I guess he could only wait and see...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, DarkLightPheonix and I had so many ideas where we waned to take this, but life, as it does, got in the way. Seeing at is was my first ever attempt at a fic, I really wanted to post what we had done, cause I'm kinda proud of it. I hope you didn't find it too disappointing and enjoyed what we had to share.
> 
> Thanks for reading.  
> xx


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